Femininity In Question
by ikasamelindora
Summary: Max...has anyone ever told you you're....Well, to be blunt...Max...you're kind of manly." When her femininity is brought into question, what perils — Nudge-fashion, make-up, red-haired wonders— will one girl face to prove that she isn't truly manly. Fax!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We do not own Maximum Ride, nor any of its plot, characters, or whatnot. We _do_ however own this particular story's plot, whatever there may be of it, and would be rather happy if no one took it. So, enjoy. And, if you enjoy it enough, or DON'T enjoy it enough, review. Review. Please.  
We love subscriptions, flames, anything. PM us for stupidity!

I rubbed my legs together idly, feeling the perfectly smooth skin connect with a soft rasp. My wings were extended, tips tickling the walls like hanging streamers.

Wow, I'm a poetic little mutant today.

This could, of course, be considered the fault of the atmosphere. It was twilight, cool and dark, the stars twinkling in the velvet black sky. Ah…actually, the view of the sky I had was somewhat blocked. This was due to the crouching figure in the window. We called _this_ nerdy ninja 'Fang.' The adorable little geek was typing furiously at a computer resting in his lap. The glowing screen illuminated his face--which was strangely expressive at the moment--making it look washed out (other than those sparkling eyes) from its perch on his legs. Was that thing all he cared about? What about me--the flock? Oh well. Let him hug his little laptop.

It was his sperm count that was gonna be down, not mine.

This is rather obvious, as I lack sperm.

….Moving right along.

I was strewn diagonally across the bed, my head in hands and my mind floating everywhere. My thoughts hopped like those stones we threw across the sea at the beach that one time after Nudge puked up her corn dog. Ahh, good times. Good, disgusting times.

A sudden creak and sink in the bed forced my twitchy eyes upward.

Directly into two twinkling black ones. These were set into smooth olive-toned skin, spaced evenly above a shapely nose. And directly below that shapely nose? Full and beautiful red lips (yes, I called part of a guy beautiful;sue me.), which were moving towards my own at an eager pace. Had I been expecting this? No. Was it a pleasant surprise?

Heck yes.

We 'enjoyed each others' company' for what seemed like a too-short eternity until Fang's eyes were back on mine. He opened his lips to speak.

What came out of it was a complete surprise.

"Max...has anyone ever told you you're....Well, to be blunt...Max...you're kind of manly."

_!!!_

"As in you lack femininity?"

_**WHAT?!**_


	2. Chapter 2!

Disclaimer: We do not own Maximum Ride. Or its characters. Or plot. Because, clearly, we are twisting said plot and characters way more than James Patterson would've liked. We may even be traumatising them a bit.

Sorry.

This is soooo OOC.

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Let's have a flashback. Well, this whole dialogue of me telling you about my experience with Fang being…randomly and extremely rude (what else is new?) is a flashback, actually, but let's take a moment to flashback on a particular moment.

…

Did that last sentence give anyone _else_ a headache?

_My hands slid across the paper's surface like two…sliding things. My eyes scanned over the words I had just written, anger and sadness pulsing through my veins, an amalgam of emotions swimming through my heart._ Did I just use the word amalgam? Yes. Yes, I did. Do I know what it means? No, no I don't.

Off of the vocab rant and back to the paper. A paper of goodbyes. That I had just written. Goodbyes. Written by me. Yes. Goodbyes.

_On it was my 'resignation' to the Flock. A detailed list of reasons why I'd left, what I'd miss, and some simple instructions on how to _not _die. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door, taking off my clothes and tying up my hair so I could take a shower. Then, standing in the bathroom blankly, with only a towel wrapped around me, I stared at the note. _

_The note? _

_This I promptly tossed in the toilet and then slammed my head against the wall above the water tank, while what I was feverishly hoping was The Voice (but was actually my schizophrenia acting up) was screaming, "What the hell, Max? What was that? WHAT WAS THAT? Complain? Leave the Flock? Just because Fag, er, __**Fang**__ said something you already knew and refused to be bothered by? HELL TO THE NO!" The voices in my head had a bad habit of acting up and getting rowdy, so I said to it in what I hoped was a soothing voice of reason, "You knew I'd never leave the flock. I just saw that idea on that psychology show I watched that one time. I would never leave my friends behind!" My mental voice grumbled as it shuffled back to the very back of my mind, its job done, squeezing in between _Saving The World _and _Fashion Sense.

***

I stepped into the tiled shower/tub combo, draped my towel over the top, and flipped on the hot water in one fluid motion. How was this motion so fluid? Because I wasn't thinking about being graceful. Of course, when trying to be graceful, I moved like a three legged giraffe. But now I wasn't thinking about it. No, my mind was elsewhere. My mind was with my foot. _Up Fang's...._ Well, you get the {shapely} picture. The hot water flowed down the valley in my back, letting my muscles try to unwind.

This wasn't happening, as my muscles are in a constant state of tensosity. _Constant._

As the water caressed me in an attempt to loosen me up, I thought about Fang. This didn't help with whole 'unwinding' thing, but I couldn't help it.

My mind was, as usual, stuck on him.

_What's wrong with him?_ I pondered, my thoughts futile. Would I ever understand him? Probably not. Was this for the better?

Probably so. I groaned and covered my face with my hands. This wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done for a few reasons. One, one needs vision to shower. Two, this covered my eyes with shampoo. And, as any moron knows, shampoo + eyes = pain x 10. So I did what any right minded, frustrated, alone, in love, and shampoo eye-d girl would do.

I threw my head back and screamed.

***

If I could just take a moment of your time, I'd like to set a few facts straight. We all know I'm neither the smartest nor chocolatey-est cookie in the jar. I am, though, in no way an idiot. But I still do a lot of dumb things. Example, eyes plus shampoo. Needless to say, I've done worse. Example?

Scream.

Because, to the Flock, Max doesn't scream unless she's dying. Or some one else is dying. Or not dying. Although, instead of screaming for that last one, I might just have to kiss some one's busted lip, but why dredge up painful memories? "Where could that kooky, lovable bird kid be going with this obnoxious and bloody random rant?" you ask?

I'm going to the scene you'll find below those three asterisks down there.

***

"Max, what's wrong?!" The door flew open with a resounding "BANG!" as the doorknob bounced off the plaster, inevitably leaving a dent I'd have to fix later. Enough about the fricking wall though, who was that voice? It was deep, strong, a little bit husky and rough. It was a guy's voice, duh.

Guy?

_**FANG!?**_

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You sexy reviewers you! Thank you so much! I love reviews of any kind, and it's always this stupid little thrill for me to open up my inbox and see that number- "Inbox (#)" of reviews! I love ya!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own MR. Why do we put this? It's fanfiction. None of us own anything. Isn't just posting something on here a disclaimer?**

***

As we last left our heroes, Fang had just moronically (and I do mean _moronically_) burst into the bathroom with a cry of "Max, what's wrong!?" with only a shower curtain betwixt the two. WHAT. WILL. HAPPEN. NEXT?!

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I'll just go ahead and say this.

I screamed again. Alright? I admit it. I screamed twice in thirty seconds. Fang, to be honest, sounded extremely concerned. (Which is strange. They know I can handle myself. I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl who can shower by herself. And the boy isn't exactly Mr. Expressive anyway.) But this doesn't excuse the fact that the boy just potentially damaged a door _we don't own in a hotel,_ while, more over, I'm _naked_ in a shower and visually impaired. And this was Nudge's, Angel's, and my room! How did he get into our room so fast in the first place? The door was locked. But to come into the bathroom without permission? He could have asked and then waited for a reply, anyway! Normally, asking a question means YOU WANT AN ANSWER. "What's wrong!?" is not a rhetorical question.

_This means I do not need a shower buddy, Fang._

"FANG! OUT! NOW!" I could barely splutter out the words through my extreme annoyance, embarrassment, and, due to the shampoo in my eyes, _pain. _I heard his shoes slide to a halt across the moist tile floor.

"What? Get out? You just screamed! Are you sure you're okay!?" Obvious confusion was filling Fang.

"No, Fang, I'm not okay. I just told you to get out because I'd like to die this slow and painful death by myself without anyone helping me. Now. GET. OUT."

"MAX, WHAT HAPPENED?!" Iggy?!

"Max, are you like, okay!?" Nudge?!

"Max, what's happening?!" Gazzy?!

"Max?!" Angel?!

"WHAT IS THIS, A COMMUNAL BATH?! EVERY WHOSE NAME IS NOT MAXIMUM RIDE- _OUT."_ Apparently, the embarrassment that was flooding my face with red was being channeled into my voice as a furious roar. Hey, whatever works works. Well, it was better to let them think I was angry than embarrassed. And, you know, it got them out. Oh, did it get them out.

The last trace of the Flock I even noticed was the scramble and clawing to the door and a chorus of 'Sorry!'s. Which, you know, was fine by moi.

Maybe I could just finish this shower in peace.

_***_

I ended up having a lovely shower. The shampoo rinsed from my eyes like magic, and I looked a whole lot better when I got out. Then, when I exited, I noticed the Flock gathered on my bed with a lovely boquet of flowers. Everyone of them took their turn in apologizing, all noting how wrong it was of them to come in when I was showering, no matter how worried they were.

Then we all had a good laugh about it, Fang told me he hadn't meant the 'manly' comment in the first place, and we kicked evil butt.

Yes, and then magical ponies flew down from the sky and gave me a Porsche.

There are so many very obvious things _wrong _with what I would have _liked_ to have happened (see above), but let's start out in order.

Shampoo doesn't just glide out of your eyes. It sits there. And it boils. And it burns. And, even after it's gone, you still feel the sting. Second, I always look like me. A shower can't rinse away lack of sleep for me- I'm starting to think those black circles are permanent. And no matter how much I wash my hair, there will always be various debris in it.

Truthfully, I don't think I need to go any further on what was wrong with that picture. If you don't get it by now, my family isn't like that. And if you don't get that, you need to get off the computer and go reread the Maximum Ride series.

It might not have happened like that but, there was actually _some _truth in that story. I did actually feel a good bit better, though rather annoyed still, after getting out of the shower. And the Flock and I did have a nice long talk. But there were no flowers, I had to round them up, and there were no heartfelt apologies.

Iggy was pretty much snickering the whole time I was ranting and raving and Fang had this _look_ on his face that made me want to choke him. Angel, Nudge, and Gazzy seemed pretty repentant, though.

So my gulps of hot air and italicized points didn't go to _total _waste, anyway.

After I was done on my soapbox and Gazzy, Iggy, and Fang had shuffled out of our room, Nudge pulled me aside, much to my surprise.

"Max?" came her soft voice in the bland room.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"You need to go shopping."

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It's short. Sorreh. My chapters normally are. And, you know, so are James Patterson's. That's why he's such a good author, I think- he doesn't pack too much into it at once.

What? No, that's not just an excuse!

Ahhh, more reviews! And I got subscriptions! You've spoiled me, so let's address some people.

Laura- Thank you so much for the criticism! I didn't care for that line either, but I kind of wondered. It's still Fang, so should it be too excited? I didn't know. Plus, like Max rants on, the Flock knows she can take care of herself. But I still agree, that might have been the most OOC part yet. Continue to help me, I beg!

Malabsorbant: TWO REVIEWS?! I LOVE YOU! And I'll write more, but I'm reaaaally bad about updating. Plus, I've had major writer's block for who knows how long.

Flyingtothestars: Mwahaha…that's what I'm talking about!

Ann: Thank you!

Jacob Black Ooft. . .Phitt: It was the randomest idea. Like ever. And I think random things. Lots. And two reviews for you too! BAM!

xSarahxMariexCullen: I know. I've always wanted him to get the shiz beat out of him via Max force. Even though I love FAX. I still wanted to see it.

Now I have a reason to!

the7thflockmember: LoL! I will, I will!

Midge 1012: Gotcha!

xxscoobyxx: Your name interests me….

santaclausrules18: HA! But you know…Max hates to lose. So, we've got some competition soon….ON A TOUR!

-xXx 'M' NaMeS RoCk xXx-: Oh, you'll see. You'll _see._


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